


Death

by cloudymoon_t



Category: Undertale Multiverse - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universes, InkTale, M/M, death mention, it isn't really death but it's said a lot soooo, reapertale, this was an Experience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:15:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25209076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudymoon_t/pseuds/cloudymoon_t
Summary: The creator's pinned him to a bulletin board, and all he wants is to leave.
Relationships: reaper/ink
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	Death

**Author's Note:**

> tagging is going to be the death of me.  
> why doesn't any site like indents?

His creator had been cleaning their desk out. Whether it was spring cleaning, or had some malicious intent behind it, he didn’t know. How could he? He was trapped here, in this space slowly becoming void of life, with no one else. The others- the sketches, the ones more incomplete than him - were gone, now. His creator had crumpled them up and thrown them out. They were gone.  
He was alone.  
He was alone, and pinned to a cork bulletin board for “sentimental value,” or so his creator put it. He’d heard them say it. Said they couldn’t bear to part with something they’d created so long ago, which he found rich. They couldn’t bear to part with something they created? Isn’t that exactly as they’d done? They’d thrown the others out and left him to rot on that stupid cork bulletin board, with the metallic thumb tack pinning him and keeping him there.  
He wished that he could tear himself apart, just to get away from here. He wished he couldn’t feel- after all, that would be better than sitting there in a puddle of your own despair, right? He wished he were somewhere else. And now, he wished more than anything that he were dead.  
It was a new word, an unusual word. He’d picked it up from what he could hear from his creator. Someone was dead, they had died. Someone else had said at least they weren’t hurting anymore. He thought that, maybe, if he were dead, he wouldn’t hurt anymore, either. It would be painless. Without pain. Feeling-less, hurt-less, alone-less, perhaps?  
He sat there, in his puddle of despair, and wished for death. He eventually began to phrase it differently- he wished for Death to come and lift him from this place, and to take him someplace where he wouldn’t hurt, and wouldn’t be alone anymore. It gave him some form of peace when he thought about it. It was his own little comfort from this world devoid of others.  
Eventually, Death came for him. Perhaps they had sensed some miserable little soul rotting here, and had decided to finally take him from this place.  
He sat there, staring up at the face hidden beneath the wispy, torn ends of his long black cloak, and hardly noticed Death’s hand stretching out to him. The hand eventually rested itself on top of his head and remained there for a few moments. For something so cold, it seemed oddly warm to him. But maybe that was because he’d never felt it before.  
“You’re supposed to be dead,” Death mused, staring back at him. They pulled their hand away, and flinched when he grabbed their hand with both of his.  
He shook as he spoke, not used to doing so. “Please don’t- stay? Please?” It felt awkward when said like that. Though maybe that’s what it’s like when you’ve never spoken before in your entire existence.  
Death froze and continued to stare at him. They didn’t respond. It looked as if they were lost in thought.  
He continued to hold their hand, still just staring. When Death’s face broke out in a bright blue, he gasped. It was something he hadn’t seen before, and much brighter than any of the dull colors of his creator’s residence, or the dull grays, blacks, and white in his little space. Death’s laugh following his blush was just as bright as they shut their eyes while laughing.  
“You’re strange. You really want to stay around me of all people?”  
He just nodded furiously. Of course he did. He didn’t want to stay here alone.  
Death seemed to realize this when they looked around. “So I wasn’t wrong. There really is only you…” They looked back down at him. “This universe doesn’t have a name. Am I right to assume you don’t, either?”  
He was confused for the most part. Universe? Did they mean this space? He knew what a name was, but did he have one? He couldn’t recall. He gave another nod, not attempting to speak again. His throat was dry, and he felt that he’d just say something even more awkward than last time.  
“Okay…” They pulled him on his feet, and he wobbled slightly, becoming light headed. How long had he been sitting? “You’re coming with me, then. Wouldn’t be right to leave someone so miserable here alone.” He was pulled close, and wrapped in the end of their cloak. It was just as cold as their hands, though still oddly warm.  
He pressed himself against Death, taking a deep breath. It appeared that Death really had come to lift him out of this empty place.


End file.
